Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

Bile rose. “I’m sorry.”

The Lord went still again. “You do that a lot? Apologizing . . . for something you’ve had nothing to do with.”

“I’m empathizing,” I told him. “You didn’t do anything to deserve that, right? You were just at the tavern, for . . . for whatever reason. That is all. No one deserves what was done to you.”

“Including a Hyhborn?”

“Yes.”

He made a noise that sounded like a dry laugh.

I took a small breath. “I need to leave. So do you. The others involved in this will come back.”

“And they will die too.” He turned, swaying.

My heart lurched with alarm. “My lord?”

“I need . . . your help. Again.” A ragged breath left him. “I need to clean up. The lunea— it contaminates the body. It’s in my blood and sweat, and the Fool’s Parsley . . . is making it hard to . . . flush it out. I need to bathe. I need water. If not, I won’t be able to heal completely. I’ll pass out again.”

I looked around. There was no water here, surely not enough to bathe him or for him to actually ingest.

Tension poured into my muscles as I stared at him. The logical part of my brain was demanding I tell him that I could be of no more help, that I wished him well, and then get as far away as I could. But the other part, the one that I was born with and that always, always won over anything my mind was telling me, demanded I do the exact opposite of what was smart and reasonable.

But it was more than my intuition. It was also because it was him. My Hyhborn lord— no, he wasn’t mine. I needed to stop with that.

I looked to the door and then to Weber, hands closing at my sides. “Can you walk?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. “Yes.”

“Good,” I whispered, taking a step toward him. I spotted the milky-white blade in the moonlight. Bending, I picked it up and glanced beyond him, to the darkened aisle. “Stay here. For real this time.”

The Lord didn’t answer as I inched past him and hurried back to the stall he’d been held in. The gas lamp was still on. I walked forward, hand tightening around the lunea blade as I kicked over the buckets of blood.





CHAPTER 5


I was concerned.

The Hyhborn lord was strong, obviously, but he’d been able to take only a few steps outside of the stall before his breathing became labored. He stumbled. I shot forward, folding an arm around his waist, and held on to him as best as I could. My own strength was quickly cracking under his weight, but the wound on his chest was bleeding again and no longer just seeping. It also looked larger. I didn’t think his other injuries fared any better.

“Just a little further,” I assured him, hoping that Finn was right and Jac would be occupied till dawn, because if not . . .

It would be bad.

He nodded, the hair now hanging in stringy clumps around his face. That was the only response I got as we made it out of the barn. As we crossed the uneven ground, I looked to the woods and spotted Iris’s shadowy form grazing.

Gritting my teeth, I forged forward, fingers slipping over his now-slick waist. It felt like an eternity by the time we reached the back door of the blacksmith’s home. The Lord leaned against the cement siding typical of buildings of this age, head hanging limply on his shoulders. “Who lives . . . here? The blacksmith?”

“Yes. He shouldn’t be back for a while,” I assured him. “This isn’t a trap or anything.”

“I would . . . hope not,” he said, tipping his head against the wall, exposing his throat to the moonlight. “You’ve gone to . . . a lot of unnecessary . . . trouble if so.”

Biting the inside of my lip, I turned the handle. Or tried to. My shoulders slumped. “It’s locked.”

“That’s . . . an inconvenience.” He angled his body toward mine. Lifting a fist, he punched the door, just above the handle. Wood cracked and splintered, exploding as his fist went straight through.

My jaw dropped.

He reached into the ragged hole and turned the lock. “There you . . . go. No longer locked.”

I blinked as my fingers fluttered to my throat. That same hand he’d just put through a thick wooden door had been around my throat.

“If I weren’t . . . weakened,” he said, eyeing me from behind a curtain of hair, “I would’ve killed you the moment I had . . . your throat in my hand. You’re lucky.”

My hand lowered as my heart skipped. I wasn’t feeling very lucky at the moment. Instead, I was feeling like I’d really gotten myself in over my head this time.

The Lord pushed open the door, all but stumbling aside at the faint stench of sour ale and decaying food. I gave the space a quick look, making out a small table and unwashed pots and pans stacked in a sink. My gaze lifted to the archway and narrow hall that appeared to lead toward the front, which Jac likely used to meet with clients. Many of the buildings in this area of Archwood were several hundred years old, having survived the Great War. So, they were larger, and had a lot of chambers and were built entirely differently from the way they were today. I turned, spying another door on the other side of the table.

Figuring that led to bedchambers and hopefully a bathing space, I helped the Lord around the wooden table.

“You . . . you weren’t at the tavern,” he rasped.

“How do you know?”

“I would’ve seen . . . you.”

I arched a brow. “I was out for a walk when I overheard what had happened.”

“Where?”

I didn’t answer as I nudged the door open and led him down the narrow hall.

“You’ve . . . been somewhere near . . . a garden,” he said.

My head whipped toward him. “How do you know that?”

“I smell . . . the earth on you,” he said, and I frowned, having no idea if that meant I smelled bad or not. “Hints of . . . of catmint and . . .”

Surprise flickered through me. I had been messing around with the catmint earlier that day. I stared at him. “How do you smell that?”

“Just can,” he mumbled as he slipped from me, swaying. I reached for him, but he waved me off. “I’m okay.”

I wasn’t so sure about that as I glanced ahead. Another door, left ajar, loomed.

His breath was ragged as he used the wall as support. “The catmint?”

“I was trimming some earlier today.”

He made a sound sort of like a hum. “I . . . like the smell . . . of them.”

“As do I.” Blowing out a breath, I pushed the door open. Moonlight streamed in from the window, casting silvery light over a bed and a surprisingly tidy chamber that smelled of fresh laundry.

The Lord shuffled into the chamber. Closing the door behind him, I threw the tiny hook-and-eye lock, as if that would stop a rabbit from getting in, let alone another person.

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. I halted, hand pressing against my chest as he grasped his knees, bent slightly at the waist. I started to ask if he was okay, but stopped myself. He wasn’t. At all. Seeing anyone like this caused my stomach to jump all over the place.

Pivoting away from him, I found a lamp near the bed and turned it on. The buttery light lit the space as I crossed the chamber, pushed open the next door, and stepped inside. Relief hit me when I saw the type of shower stall found in the oldest buildings. It wasn’t very large, but it would do. “You can get cleaned up in here.”

“I’m going to need a minute,” he slurred. “The chamber seems to be moving.”

Returning to the bedchamber, I looked around, and spied a cupboard. Hurrying to it, I pulled the lunea dagger from the pocket of my cloak, half surprised I hadn’t stabbed myself with it. I placed it on the cupboard as I spotted a closed jar of what appeared to be water on a small table opposite the bed. I lifted it to my nose, taking a sniff, and when I smelled nothing, I poured a glass and took a drink. “Will this help? It’s just water, but warm.”

“It should.”

I handed him the glass, stepping back. He took just a small sip at first and then downed the entire glass.

“More?”

“I think I . . . should let that . . . settle first.”